


Wise as a serpent

by fromthedeskoftheraven



Category: The Hobbit (Jackson Movies), The Hobbit - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: Angst, Arkenstone - Freeform, Battle of Five Armies, Erebor, F/M, Gold Sickness, Human!Smaug
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-09-16
Updated: 2016-09-16
Packaged: 2018-08-15 10:21:10
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,158
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8052604
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fromthedeskoftheraven/pseuds/fromthedeskoftheraven
Summary: The Company's burglar has an unsettling encounter with Smaug in human form.





	Wise as a serpent

Your feet slipped on loose coins, nearly sliding out from under you as you made a desperate dash to hide behind a massive column of carven green stone, not daring to look back at the scale-armored behemoth that followed behind you, trailing its massive tail through the treasure hoard with a relentless, metallic scraping.

“Come now, pretty thief,” the thunderous voice called, “we haven’t finished our conversation.”

Cowering in the column’s shadow, you tried to quiet the ragged gasps that made you lightheaded, praying that the creature would somehow overlook your presence. The noise of its lumbering progress through the hall ceased, and your heartbeat seemed so loud in the sudden silence that you feared it might give away your position. There came the soft clink of shifting coins quite near you, and you flattened yourself against the cool stone, squeezing your eyes tightly shut in your fear.

The voice was quieter, silkier, calling to mind the warning growl of a predatory cat, and much too near your ear.

**“Calm down.** **I look a lot worse than I am.”**

With a start, you opened your eyes to find yourself looking into the face of a man. 

He was tall, draped in a robe of deep purple, with an aura of leashed power in his slim body and eyes like the clearest amber, though they flashed orange in the dim light with the wolfish smile that crept over his face.

“Who are you?” Your voice was the barest whisper. 

The smile became darkly amused. “It’s very rude to forget the name of your host.”

It couldn’t be…it was impossible, and yet… 

“Smaug?”

“The very one,” he drawled.

“You…you’re a man!”

“I can be, when I don’t wish to frighten my playthings,” he said lightly, a greedy look coming into his eye as he added, “not yet, anyway.”

Smaug walked a slow, appraising circle around you while you stood stock still, trying to keep calm while sweat beaded on your brow both from fear and from the strange heat that radiated from his body. 

“Now, where were we? Ah, yes,” he said keenly. “What is Thorin Oakenshield to you, that you would risk your life to retrieve the King’s jewel for him?”

“Oakenshield,” you frowned, desperately feigning confusion, “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Oh, but you do,” he warned, lifting your chin with slender, searing fingertips as he leaned close to your face, his smugness dissolving into menace. “I smell it on your clothes. I see it in your eyes.” He stared searchingly into your face, slowly recovering his satisfied smile. “You… _care_ for him. You even fancy yourself in love with him. Don’t deny it,” he added, with a dismissive wave of his hand, “it would insult my intelligence and yours.” 

You stood miserably mute, fearful of giving away anything more than he had already divined.

“No, I believe the better question is: what are _you_ to Oakenshield?” His voice took on a pitying tone. “Inconsequential, it would seem, if he sent you into the jaws of danger after his precious arkenstone.”

“He didn’t send me,” you bristled, “I volunteered.”

“Brave _and_ loyal. Admirable qualities in a thief.” Smaug prowled behind you to lean over your shoulder, speaking close to your ear. “Tell me,” he murmured, “when you found the hidden door, had he any second thoughts? Any words of warning? A plea to reconsider?”

Thorin’s resolute voice echoed, unbidden, in your ears. _The arkenstone, Mistress Burglar, is why you are here._

“Perhaps you had hoped for a tender embrace, a confession of some sort…”

“Stop it!” You immediately regretted the outburst, as angry as he was pleased that he’d shaken you. “If you’re going to kill me, have done with it. There’s no need for games.”

“I like games,” he answered, with a sly smile. “I’m particularly enjoying this one.”

Holding your gaze, he drew from somewhere within his robes a singular jewel, and you understood at once what Balin had meant by “you will know it when you see it.” It was large, flawless, purest white, but contained every color of the rainbow in its iridescent glow, and sparkled so that it seemed to emit its own peculiar light. 

Unconsciously, your fingers crept toward the stone, overcome by a desire to touch it, and Smaug fairly vibrated with sadistic glee.

“Do you know, I am tempted to let you take it,” he whispered, “let you watch it corrupt his heart and drive him mad…just like his grandfather.”

You snatched your hand back, as though a spell had broken, and looked at him with frightened eyes.

“Oh, you _have_ heard the story,” Smaug gloated. “Then you know what it is he fears…what he may become.”

A distant shout of your name shattered the tense silence, and Smaug’s low chuckle was sardonic.

“Ah! Your lover shows himself. Perhaps I misjudged him.”

“Thorin,” you breathed, looking anxiously toward the entrance to the treasure chamber.

Leaning so near that his hot breath fanned the shell of your ear, Smaug held the arkenstone before you on an open palm, his murmur seductive. “Take it.”

You stared at him, bewildered, and Thorin called again, the sound of his footsteps now reaching your ears.

“This is your chance to test the mettle of your King Under The Mountain,” Smaug hissed contemptuously. “If you trust him – if you believe he is stronger than the lust for gold that has destroyed his betters – give him the stone.”

A malicious smile curved his lips at your hesitation, and with a sudden determination you snatched the jewel from his hand, shoving it carelessly into the pocket of your coat while you ran as fast as your feet would carry you away from that hateful, smirking face. 

You pounded up the stairs, nearly colliding with Thorin in the corridor that led to the mountain’s secret entrance.

“You’re alive,” he marveled.

“Yes,” you panted, urging him back in the direction he’d come, “but we have to get out of here.”

His strong hand closed over your arm, halting you in your tracks, and grim desperation roughened his voice. “Did you find it?”

You frowned wonderingly. “Thorin, are you listening to me? It’s not safe here, we _must_ go–”

Thorin’s grip only tightened, giving you an impatient jostle as the shadow of suspicion fell across his face. “The arkenstone,” he bit out. “Did you find it?”

Smaug’s words mocked you once more, so distinct in your mind that for a foolish moment you glanced back toward the treasure chamber, wondering if Thorin could hear it too.

_If you trust him…give him the ssstone._

When you looked again at Thorin, his narrowed eyes were the windows to a new and ruinous desire that burned within him, and your heart drummed a painful tattoo against your ribs as you swallowed hard against the hoarseness of your throat and gave a little shake of your head.

“No.”


End file.
